


Caroling

by Sonata_IX



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28676142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonata_IX/pseuds/Sonata_IX
Summary: The gang get drunk and go caroling around Velaris.  Slight Nessian.
Relationships: Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Caroling

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Kingdom of Sarah J. Maas discord’s December writing prompt.

It had been Mor's idea, of course.

She was drunk. They all were. But Mor's drunkenness took the form of manic joy, and when Cassian's turned brooding there was no way she would stand for that.

She had herded them all out of Rita's and into the crisp night, heedless of the fat snowflakes that blanketed them instantly. They all paused at that.

The blizzard had been heavy enough to keep them from making their usual trip to the cabin and the males were pissy about having to reschedule their annual snowball fight. Feyre had innocently suggested they just do it here in Velaris—a mistake she would never make again.

Eventually they had decided on the distraction of dinner and drinking and dancing, and now it seemed the storm had finally gentled, the biting wind and ice fading into a silent, fluttering snowfall.

But it was far too late in the day, and they were all far too drunk, to begin the trek to the cabin at this point.

So Mor had suggested caroling.

The males were immediately against it and it probably would have come to nothing—except Feyre, her eyes shining as she swayed and lifted her face to the snow flurries, thought it was a wonderful idea.

Which meant Rhysand thought it was a wonderful idea.

Which meant Cassian and Azriel were coming along.

Even Amren, putting on the best show of _not_ being drunk, grinned from ear to ear. Though that may have been at the idea of them all making fools of themselves.

So they tramped and swaggered down the street to the nearest houses, and promptly burst into song.

Mor threw one arm around Cassian's shoulders and one around Azriel's, then started belting out a sea shanty that had nothing at all to do with the holidays. Cassian exchanged a glance with Azriel, then joined in with a shrug. Azriel only winced—they both managed to be off-key in different ways—before adding his voice quietly under theirs.

Feyre didn't know the song they were singing, but she didn't let that stop her. She just picked a completely different song as she mimicked Mor's pose, one arm each around Rhysand and Amren. Rhysand, eyes sparkling with mischief, chose yet another song rather than join Feyre's. Amren looked ill, as if this was suddenly a lot less fun than she had expected.

Up and down the street, lights came on in windows. Someone shouted something unintelligible, but that only spurred everyone to sing even louder.

Finally, someone threw a bottle.

Azriel caught it in one hand. Surprised to find it over half full, he popped it open and passed it around. The singing paused as they each took a swig, raucously toasting their unknown benefactor as they drank.

Then, pleased with their payment, they linked arms and stumbled off—to repeat the process on another street.

Sometimes they were shouted at, sometimes they were ignored. Sometimes people threw things, which were always celebrated by the group no matter how bizarre or insulting they might be. Once, three windows in a line burst open and the crowd of revelers within serenaded them back.

All in all, it took a while before anyone realized that Cassian had been leading the way. Slowly guiding them across town, in a very specific direction.

Feyre figured it out first, coming to a stop so quickly that Rhysand and Amren, still on either side of her, skidded in the slippery snow and almost fell. She didn't notice the raised eyebrow from one, nor the glare from the other.

Ahead, Mor and Azriel swung around to see why they had stopped, Mor dropping Cassian's arm in the process.

Cassian, seemingly aware of Feyre's gaze, hunched his shoulders and kept walking.

"She won't be there," Feyre said, loudly enough that they could all hear. Around her, her friends stilled, catching on.

Cassian kept walking.

With a huff of warm breath that hung in the air in a misty cloud, Feyre hurried after him, linking her arm in his. She glanced at him, but he didn't acknowledge her, so she said nothing. Just kept pace with him silently.

It was Amren who took his other arm, surprisingly. Or maybe not. As Nesta's mentor, Amren had spent more time with the eldest Archeron sister than anyone. They could almost be called friends.

 _This is a bad idea,_ Feyre thought to herself.

She felt a brush of warmth against her mind and then, _It's hardly the_ worst _idea any of us has ever come up with after a night of drinking._

She glanced over her shoulder and gave Rhys a small smile for his attempt to keep the mood light, but it wasn't enough.

As they neared the dilapidated hovel that Nesta had made her home, the others held back a few paces. Feyre and Amren stopped in front of the house, letting Cassian pull free as he walked right up to the door.

Feyre glanced up and down the street. It was darker here—fewer streetlights. And quieter. The gently falling snow seemed to muffle all other sounds.

Cassian stood before the door for long moments, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he stared at the roughly hewn wood. Finally he lifted a hand, and Feyre knew she wasn't the only one who tensed as she waited for the knock to echo through the silence.

But he didn't knock.

His hand kept rising, until it was high over his head, as if he was beseeching the stars. No, not the stars. The darkened windows above the door.

And then he began to sing.

His voice was coarse and not at all melodic, but there was something poignant and raw that sent a shiver down Feyre's spine. She didn't recognize the tune, or even the language, but she could tell it was coming from his heart. She felt tears prick her eyes and then Rhys slid up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against his solid warmth. Azriel materialized beside them, both of them looking not at the building before them but at their brother, as they joined their voices with his.

 _Sing, Feyre,_ Rhys prompted her after the first verse.

_I don't know the words._

_Words aren't needed,_ was his response, and she realized it was true.

So she sang, a wordless melody, and felt more than heard when Amren and Mor joined in as well. Their six voices blended together in perfect harmony, singing a song of love and loss and longing, for her sister—their sister.

When the last notes faded, Cassian's voice lingered the longest. Feyre was trembling. She had never sung like that before, and if the others' drunken attempts throughout the night were any sign, neither had they. And yet, just now—it was like something magical had happened. She wondered if they would be able to repeat it, or if they even dared to try.

Unable to move, unable to speak, they all waited silently. For what, Feyre wondered. Cassian did not look away from the windows.

And then she saw it. The tattered curtains, fluttering softly even though there wasn't the slightest bit of wind. There, in the darkest shadows, a silhouette. The faintest outline of a pale face, watching them. Watching _him._

As if it was all the acknowledgement he needed, Cassian turned and walked away.

The others followed wordlessly, and when Feyre glanced back after a few steps, there was nothing at all in the window.

They were halfway back across town before anyone spoke. The pleasant drunken haze had long since worn off. The only sound was their own feet crunching through the new snow.

"Why?" she asked, just as they reached the intersection where they would go their separate ways home. Everyone heard her question. Everyone knew what she was asking, and who the question was meant for.

Cassian stopped and everyone else lingered in a loose circle around him. He tipped his face up to the sky, snowflakes catching in his hair. His expression was fathomless.

"She heard," he said at last. "It's enough."

Feyre wrapped her arms around herself, gripping her elbows tightly. It wasn't enough. It _wasn't_. She wanted to scream. At Cassian, at Nesta—at Tamlin and Ianthe and Hybern who had caused all of this.

 _Easy._ Rhys's gentle touch, soothing her, but at that moment Cassian looked and her and Feyre froze, seeing each of her own emotions mirrored in his gaze. Every frustration, every pain.

"For now," he said hoarsely, "it's enough."

Then he hunched his shoulders and strode off into the night.

No one followed.

Only when he was long gone did Mor curse, rounding on Amren. "If you taunt him about this, if you _ever_ mention this again, I will end you."

Amren's eyes narrowed. "Funny how you single _me_ out," she drawled. But then she shrugged. "After we all got blackout drunk, I don't remember a thing. Can't imagine anyone _singing._ "

She swaggered off, but her voice drifted back out of the darkness, a parting shot. "Besides, I just know Mor would have a _terrible_ singing voice."

Mor snarled, but didn't follow. She glanced at Azriel, who was watching her intently, and Rhys, who had pulled Feyre into his arms and tucked her head under his chin. Feyre yawned. "I'm going back to Rita's," Mor said at last, tossing her golden hair back as she flounced away.

With a respectful nod at his High Lord and Lady, Azriel drifted after her like an ever-present shadow.

Feyre felt Rhysand smile into her hair. "Bedtime," he said, before winnowing them directly to their rooms.

Feyre was only too happy to crawl under the warm blankets and Rhysand slid in beside her moments later.

"Do you think it made any difference?" she asked with another yawn as she curled up against his chest.

"Who's to say with Nesta," he murmured, his fingers drawing lazy circles over her shoulders. "Maybe. I remember a time when music helped me reach someone whom I'd thought was lost." He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and a memory rose up in her mind, a faint echo of a song from long ago, blending with the song they'd sung tonight.

"Nesta deserves to be happy," she said sleepily. "So does Cassian."

"They'll find their way, in their own time. Wait and see, Feyre darling."

They slept.

And somewhere, far across the city, Nesta began to hum.


End file.
